The turn of the scorpion
by Marlean
Summary: "Erik! I have turned the scorpion!" The cry was a plead for mercy, a cry for Erik to stop the madness. What was his plan for her? For all of them? R&R PLEASE!
1. The turn of the scorpion

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the opera characters, but they do belong in my heart, just as much as I believe they did belong to their original writer Gaston Leroux. And if you haven't read the original book before reading this phanfic: SHAME ON YOU! Enjoy!  
  
~ Chapter one ~  
  
"Erik! I have turned the scorpion!" her voice expressed all the horror, fear, and desperation she felt. The cry was a pleading for mercy, a cry for Erik to stop the madness. What was his plan for her? For all of them? The torture-chamber was awfully quiet.  
  
"Erik, now you must let Raoul go!"  
  
"Well, Christine, you know now that you have consented to be my wife, through your own free will, through the very fact that you turned the scorpion. And now you are engaged to me. Surely you don't need two men engaged to you?" he said with a smirk.  
  
Christine stepped closer to Erik and looked him straight in the eyes. Her blue teary eyes met his yellow.  
  
"I refuse to have two murdered men as my wedding present! Let them go, Erik. If you love me, Erik, you will let them go. I've given you what you wanted, and now it's your turn to give me what I want. It's the only fair thing to do, and you know it!"  
  
Erik hesitated for a minute, looked Christine deeply into the eyes, then he threw up his arms in a surrendering gesture.  
  
"Fine! As you wish, my wife."  
  
Christine exhaled out of relief, but didn't have time to go look in the little window to see if her love was still alive, for Erik had grabbed her by the wrist with his bony, ice-cold hand. They had left the house, and before she knew it, they were at the altar in Madeleine church.  
  
They were now married. He had led her with a steady hand to Madeleine church, but once they were there, he didn't seam to know what to do. He just asked her again if she was agreeing to marry him, to become his living wife, and she had, trembling of fear had shook her head and said yes. After that he had turned away his hideous head. He hadn't even tried to kiss her.  
  
She was so very thankful for that.  
  
He had then played her the most beautiful wedding-mass she had ever heard, and it almost brought tears to her eyes, for it was so wrong. A wedding- mass was supposed to be merry and gay, and surely, this one was. Erik's voice was like silent thunder. But this wasn't a real wedding, so it all felt so wrong. Everything felt wrong. He was a murdering monster! And now they were married!? After the great performance he had taken her right back to the Opera House. He was such an extraordinary man.  
  
He had said that now they were all free to leave, soon. That he should free the prisoners in the torture-chamber just to please her, that he would do anything to please her, since she now was his wife. He had opened the door to the torture-chamber and carried out the two men that had been trapped inside. The Persian and her Raoul.  
  
Raoul had at first appeared drowned to her, but she soon realised that Erik knew medicine much better than she did, and that he were much more worried over the Persian. When Raoul had woken up again, she thanked God inside for letting him live. She had then sat down with one of Erik's many books in her lap, trying to think of anything else than the fact that Erik might still change his mind, and that he might still be the murderer of the Persian. Oh, he was a terrible man! But he seamed to know how to save people just as good as he seamed to know how to send them to their death. The Persian soon woke up also, but Christine didn't dare to speak to him, even though she knew he tried to communicate with her. She didn't want to risk anything. Erik's temper wasn't something to play around with, so she did everything Erik told her to do, without any questions. After a while the Persian slept heavily, and Erik then took him and carried him off. When he came back he said he had sent the "Daroga" to his flat on Rue de Rivoli, and that they didn't need to worry about him anymore. Christine just nodded in reply and hoped that was the right thing to do. She would do anything to keep Erik to his promise to let both her and Raoul go.  
  
When Raoul after a short while started to wake up again, Erik dragged him, away. It was just temporarily, he said, so they could have some privacy before she left too.  
  
So they could have a proper wedding-night.  
  
Wedding-night? She hadn't even thought about that. She was almost certain though, that he wouldn't do anything to her. Erik had almost seamed too scared to look at her since they "got married". Whenever she had looked up from the book he had turned his head away. He was wearing his black mask again, so it wasn't because he was afraid to show her his face he turned away. It was almost as if he was ashamed over what he had done, but she wasn't sure.  
  
When Erik had left with Raoul she was happy over being left alone for a while. She needed some time to think. She was so glad that Erik had let the Persian and Raoul out from the torture-chamber. She was so relieved that they were both alive. She was so glad that Erik seamed to have decided to finally let them go. Both her and Raoul. Now all she had to do was just to survive their "wedding-night". Erik scared her so, and yet, he had sounded so sincere when he said he was not really wicked. But then he got so angry, and his temper really scared her more than anything. He had almost killed Raoul and the Persian. Would he really do anything for her? He would let her go out of love, just to please her, or so he said. But then again: was he to be trusted? Where was Raoul now? Where was the Persian now? He might have killed them outside the house for all she knew! But no. She had to believe in his word. Why should he have had such a hard time bringing them both back to life, if he was just going to try to kill them again? It didn't make any sense, so she decided that Erik must have been honest when he said he should let them go. What would happen then? With her? With Erik? With all of them? 


	2. The first & last dance

Disclaimer: I own everything that is between the names Erik, Christine, the Persian and Daroga, so if there is an "and" in-between; It's ALL MINE!  
  
~ Chapter two ~  
  
She suddenly felt observed.  
  
She looked up and saw Erik, the man of her thoughts glaring at her from across the room. He looked so powerful, this man, this angel and demon both combined in one. She hadn't heard him come in, and she was silently wondering how many entrances there were to this house that she wasn't aware of. He took a few steps towards her. She felt a fear for his dark side, and he still hadn't said anything, so she didn't know in what mood he was.  
  
"I'm sorry for tying you up like that before, but you can't hurt yourself like that, you know. Why did you scare me like that?"  
  
Christine had almost forgot the naive suicide attempt she had done about an hour ago, and now when Erik brought it up again she blushed of embarrassment.  
  
"I understand, it was for my own good."  
  
He looked at her wrists.  
  
"I didn't realise I tied you that hard?" he said in a worried voice, seeing the blue marks the ropes had left on her body.  
  
"No, I just tried to get loose." her voice died, when Erik walked past her and fetched something from one of the cabinets. He held out a small jar to her.  
  
"Put this on, it smells bad, but it will help take away the bruises."  
  
She looked at him with surprise in her eyes, and then took the jar from his hands.  
  
Their hands met for a split second. Her warm, soft hand met his cold, skeleton-like just for a moment, and then the moment was gone, as Erik quickly pulled away. Christine blinked out of surprise. Strangely his touch hadn't been that repulsive this time, just cold. Was it he who had changed? Or was it she, she mused, as she opened the jar and took some of the smelly content and put it on her wrists. When she was done she put handed out the jar back to Erik, but he shook his head in a "you keep it"-gesture. She then put the little jar in her skirt pocket. Looking up again, she felt uncertain of what would happen next.  
  
"Will you do me the honour of sharing just one last meal with me? Our wedding-meal, perhaps?" his silent voice was uncertain, as if the question had been said after an inner struggle. She nodded her head.  
  
"Yes, of course I will Erik."  
  
He seamed to be smiling towards her, but with the mask on, she wasn't sure. Then he went into the diningroom. She followed him a few steps behind, and as he held out her chair and she sat down, she felt how tired she was. She hadn't slept for days, and now as all the drama and adrenaline seamed to be over, her body finally relaxed a little and the tiredness came rushing over her. Erik light two candles on the table, then disappeared for a while.  
  
When he came back he had two glasses and a bottle of wine in his hands. He put it down on the table, then left again to fetch the food. Christine had to struggle not to fall asleep the few minutes Erik was away, but when he came back the whole room got filled with a lovely scent of food. Her stomach rumbled out of joy! She hadn't eaten properly for a long time. She had had too much on her mind to do so. But now she had convinced herself that Erik had made up his mind, and that he should keep his word, he was too much of a proper gentleman not to do so.  
  
She had seen how he had been really worried over the Persian's life. But how his mixed drafts had done the trick and brought "The Daroga", as Erik liked to call him, back to life. Erik came back and put a plate in front of her. The smell of curry and other spices filled her nostrils, and when Erik had taken his seat on the other side of the table, she said a silent grace for the both of them.  
  
"It smells delicious! I didn't know I was so hungry, until just now. " she said smiling, and put the napkin in her lap. Erik observed her in silence. Coming to the conclusion that she seamed to be sincere. When Christine tasted the food, she realised that the food tasted, if possible, even better than it smelled, and she couldn't help exhale with a grateful sound. Erik smirked.  
  
"Do you like it? It's something I learned to cook while being in India."  
  
"I love it!" she exclaimed.  
  
She really did, she had never tasted anything even remotely like it before. In Sweden they certainly didn't have food or spices like this, nor had she ever had anything even similar in France either. Erik was truly a man of many mysteries. Erik filled up their glasses with the wine and held up his glass.  
  
"To our marriage and happiness, Mademoiselle." Christine tried to look into his eyes, but to no avail. She slowly raised her glass too.  
  
"To our happiness, Erik."  
  
She sipped from the delicious wine and it felt like silk in her mouth. They enjoyed the rest of the meal in peaceful silence, and she had just put down her empty glass when she suddenly heard soft music from afar. First it was soft as a whisper, than the music seamed to come closer and closer. It was playing: Franz Schubert's Serenade, she recognised it. Erik slowly rose and held out his hand towards her.  
  
"May I have this dance?"  
  
He wanted to dance? They had never danced before. They had sung, they had attended the opera, but they had never danced. Was he a good dancer? Her curiosity was too much she had to know. 


	3. A dream

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux is God, Gaston Leroux is God, Gaston Leroux is God. Read the original!  
  
~ Chapter three ~  
  
She took his hand this time, for the first time ever, without any hesitation. His eyes seamed to burn deep down into her soul, but she didn't turn away. She swallowed and looked calmly into his eyes while she rose. He seamed to be judging her, and she was hoping to pass the test.  
  
The music filled her up inside and she didn't want to spoil the mood. Nothing in the whole world could have felt more right during that particular moment than to take Erik's cold, bony hand, and feel how he with timidity placed his other hand gently around her waist. As if he was afraid that she would break, or disappear if he held her too hard.  
  
It was like a dream.  
  
Everything felt so unreal. Maybe it was the wine, the music; maybe it was the soft candlelight, but she had never been this relaxed with Erik since the day she found out he wasn't the Angel of music. But in a way he still was. Maybe not the Angel of music, but he was her Angel of music. She had never heard anyone sing like he did, or play. And she probably never would again. And no one had ever taught her as much as he had. So maybe he wasn't an angel, but he truly was music for her. He had taught her to use her voice in a way she never dreamed she could do. They had sung with more emotion than she ever thought possible. And he had made her a star. She would always be grateful for that.  
  
Erik led her easy in the music, for one that was unused to touch and therefor probably never had danced with anyone before in his life, he sure knew how to move, and act. He felt each and every differentiates in the tune, and used it all to its full capacity without overdoing it.  
  
It felt like a magical moment. The scent from the flowers in the room seamed to become stronger and stronger, as time passed and it was as if their smell filled Christine's lungs with contentment.  
  
Erik had closed his eyes, as if he could feel his other senses if he kept them closed. If Christine felt fear or something like that, he could understand, but he didn't want to see it in her eyes, not now. They danced slowly to the music and after a while she leaned her head against his shoulder. She heard him gasp for air as she did so. And she felt his muscles tighten under his black dinner jacket. Did her action surprise him so? This man. This fearless, strong, and unscrupulous murderer got so weak under her touch. How could it be? She still couldn't figure him out the least, and it felt as a sad disadvantage. What kind of life had he lived?  
  
After a while she felt him relaxing again. She closed her eyes and they danced the night away. The music was intoxicating, and very relaxing, soon she found that she liked dancing with her eyes closed. She knew Erik held his eyes closed also, and it did intensify the other senses. She now felt the music in her veins, making her warm and she became more attentive. The scent of the flowers and candles, Erik's cool body, and his hand around her waist. Firm, but still soft somehow. It all felt right. The music united them.  
  
She didn't want to open her eyes again. She would much rather stay just like this to keep the calm moment forever, so when the music died out she at first didn't notice it.  
  
Erik gently whispered her name. Not until then did she first realise that they had stopped moving. No, she didn't want it to stop! She didn't want reality to break into the sweet dream she had made, with the help of the beautiful music by Schubert. In her dream Erik wasn't a murderer, in her dream he was just a special man, with special gifts, nothing more. She refused to move she held her eyes closed hard, so as to fight the unavoidable.  
  
"Christine. my dear." he said, reluctantly.  
  
She opened her eyes at last and met his yellow, questioning ones. He was standing so close to her!  
  
"Aren't you tired? It has been a long day for you, you know." He had slowly raised her hand and now boldly, but very gently caressed her blond hair.  
  
"No!" Christine interrupted him. The fact was that she was more tired than she had ever been, but like a stubborn child she refused to admit it, not wanting the night to end, ever. She knew that with the raising morning sun, reality would strike, and Erik would be turned back into the feared murder she deep, deep down still knew he was, but she refused to think about that now. And when the morning came Raoul would be there wanting her to marry him. Wanting her to be his bride. And she would say yes. For she loved him. But tonight. tonight belonged to Erik and her. Tonight she was his bride. Tonight it was the least she could give him. 


	4. No ordinary man

Disclaimer: I have actually stolen Erik and I have him locked up in my drawer at the moment, so if he hasn't figured out a way to open it yet, he is mine to keep forever! But let that be our secret, okay?  
  
~ Chapter four ~  
  
Coming back to his own quarters he sat down next to his black coffin, his bed, took off his mask, and closed his eyes. What a wonderful night it had been! God had been kind to him today. If he had been forced to kill the entire population in Paris just to be allowed to feel half of what he had felt today, he would do it in an instant! Without any hesitation or remorse whatsoever.  
  
But he hadn't killed anyone today. He had been set out to do so. But he hadn't.  
  
The only man who had died today, had drowned in the lake before he had the time to drown him himself. It must have been Raoul de Chagny's brother, because he had looked just like an older version of the young man. What was his name? Philippe? He had seen him before in the Foyer at the Opera.  
  
Anyway, Philippe's death wasn't his fault. It wasn't the even the siren's fault! The siren was going to take care of him, but alas, he was too late! The clumsy Vicomte had already managed to kill himself somehow. The siren had found him floating on the lake Averne upside down like a dead fish, and that had left him in a somewhat puzzled state of mind. Apparently the man had hit his head somehow, perhaps by attempting to dive into the lake at one of its shallow spots, and hit his head so badly that he fell unconscious and drowned within a few seconds.  
  
How fickle fate is. The man must have had two death contracts. One with the siren and one with fate, but fate had been faster this time.  
  
And Erik had had been good, he had saved the life of the Daroga and Raoul to please his wife, and God and heaven had even rewarded him with the best night in his life, already. God not only works in mysterious ways; he also works very quickly! He mused on if it was because this night was bound to be his last? He took the ebony boxes out of his inner pocket, and put them in a drawer. He wouldn't need those again, for sure. For now it was all over. Tomorrow Christine should leave him for the last time in his life. She should marry the booby Raoul, and she would be happy with him. He would provide for her, bring her joy and take her out on Sundays. Everything a husband should do to his wife.  
  
But Erik would make Christine promise to come back, when he was dead. He planned on putting a small advertisement in the Epoque about it. That way she would know when his life was over. I couldn't be long left now. He hung with his head, and somehow he experienced utterly joy and more pity over himself that he had ever felt, both at the same time.  
  
What he wouldn't give to have the fair complexion of an ordinary man! But he had to reconcile with his destiny.  
  
He was no ordinary man.  
  
He was Erik.  
  
He knew that, everybody that had ever seen him knew that.  
  
He took of his jacket, and silently wondered if God was merciful even towards mendacious murderers such as himself. He doubted it. He laid down in his coffin and closed the lid. The darkness was peaceful and surrounded him completely. He was so used to looking like a dead person and living like one. Acting like the living corpse, the ghost and ghoul he was born as.  
  
He hoped that when death would come, it would take him quick. He had felt death's shadow following him, patiently and silently observing him for some time now.  
  
How old was he? He didn't know for sure. Fifty something perhaps. Christine was only in her twenties, with her whole life ahead of her. She belonged up in the sunlight, on the stage and in the heart of the audience. She had looked so beautiful when he had taken her to visit the Bois; she was always so beautiful. When she is gone he will live out of the memory of her. Her beautiful Swedish blue eyes, golden hair, soft skin and amazing voice. She wasn't like anyone else at the opera, she never had been, and probably never should be. She was special.  
  
He had never seen her use any make-up, even though many of the singers nowadays wore a lot. On some you could hardly see their face behind the layers of powder and rouge that covered their skin, but Christine had never used any. She refused to do so. "I will not look like someone I'm not!" he had heard her say once. And he was glad that she hadn't changed her mind, even though several people had tried to persuade her into putting on some powder. Her Scandinavian beauty was more than enough and any powder or make- up would only cover it instead of showing it more.  
  
Sometimes it felt as if her beauty stung his eyes. It was so radiant and it shined so brightly, especially when she smiled, that he sometimes just closed his eyes, trying to save the vision of her as a photo on the inside of his eyelids or something.  
  
But it was never enough, he wanted to see more. He needed to see more. He had started to become depending on her, weather he liked it or not. He started to look for her around the opera, saw how she was kind to everyone, from the corps de ballet to the old cobblers. Her smile and joyful, crystal clear laughter that made even him feel a light in his soul when he heard it, was one of the most heart-warming sounds imaginable. She was the queen of the opera, weather others saw it or not, he saw it clearly.  
  
He on the other hand was the king of the opera, and that was something he let people know little by little. He gave the managers notes from the Opera Ghost he was, and the legend soon got the respect and fear that was in place for a phantom from all the levels of workers at the Opera. He was satisfied.  
  
However his need for Christine became more and more of an obsession, she drew him to her more and more each day, and he thought over the fact that she may not be as innocent and kind as she seamed to be. So he followed her for a while. And to his surprise he discovered that she was for real. She was like an angel. He had never thought that anyone could be so honest and purely good as Chistine.  
  
It was truly unfair that she wasn't at a higher position at the opera, so he began playing with the thought of maybe tutoring her. She had a good voice and he could teach her how to use it, he could teach her everything she needed to know. 


	5. Heartache

Disclaimer: Blah blah, blah-blah, blah, and glory hallelujah. I'm almost sure Erik hides in my bellybutton right now! Should I try luring him out with bacon?  
  
~ Chapter five ~  
  
The hard thing had been to find a proper way to approach her. He didn't dare to show himself to her, since his mask only made people around him scared. Even those who had no idea what the mask hid or what lay beneath it found the mask intimidating. So that's why he decided to use his voice to get close to her instead.  
  
His voice was the one thing God had been generous with while creating him, and Erik used it whenever he could.  
  
Sometimes he used it to fool around with some of the frequent visitors to the opera, making them think their partners said something they did not. Other times he just scared people with it. It was awful when he wanted it to be, and sweet as syrup when he chose to. It was something he could completely control and the power it gave him could was intoxicating.  
  
And it had all worked, hadn't it? The only thing he asked himself was if he hadn't shown himself to her too soon. And maybe he had let her become a star too soon? It had made her happy, she had fallen into tears of gratitude towards the audience, but considering the fact that her triumph made her more attractive to Raoul, maybe he should have kept her talent to himself for a bit longer.  
  
He had enjoyed every morning lesson they had ever had. He didn't mind her calling him her 'Angel of music'. After all it was just a way for him to get closer to her. Anything that made him get closer to her was worth trying. Everything is allowed in love and war, right?  
  
He used to sometimes sit in her dressing-room at night just to smell the scent of her. He could still feel her presence being left in the room after she had left the Opera for the day, and she felt just out of reach, but he knew that she would soon come there again, waiting eagerly for him. him! Had anyone ever waited with such eagerness for him before? She would be there just in time for their next singing lesson, not once had she been late. So she wouldn't be out of reach for long, just a couple of hours.  
  
Her impact on his life took the strangest way of showing itself, he first noticed it in his day to day basis, and then it even affected his music compositions. It became more hopeful than before, almost with a glimpse of light in it, and it wasn't like him to bring any light into his dark Don Juan Triumphant at all, so he had to re-write several pages of it since it didn't fit in with the rest. It was a frustrating and strange feeling how she had somehow come into his subconscious also and taken over control.  
  
He also started to think of what Christine would think of Don Juan Triumphant if he one day sang it to her. But he came to the conclusion that the child wouldn't be able to grasp the horrors in it and that it might even destroy her precious mind, and he didn't dare to take a chance on that. She was too important to him now.  
  
His singing lessons developed Christine's voice in a way he never even hoped it would. She became more secure in herself, and after following his precise instructions she started singing with such rapture that it nearly scared her. He could see it in her eyes. She wasn't Christine anymore when she sang. She was Aida, Juliet, or Ofelia, singing out their tragedies for the world to hear.  
  
He couldn't hold back or restrain her debut then, even if he had wanted to. He knew she was ready and ripe, and it was the only right thing to do to let her sing in front of an audience, and let them hear something they would never hear again. Such perfection is something every opera-singer tries to achieve but only a very few reaches. But Christine even made it sound simple and natural somehow. Something he hadn't heard in anyone else before.  
  
She truly sang like an angel.  
  
What he didn't know then was what the consequences her debut would give them. But it was all history now, wasn't it? You can't change the past, so why think about things you can't change?  
  
He turned around and after a while he felt sleep coming upon him, and he was grateful, for today he hadn't even felt the pain in his chest since he was carrying the Daroga. Then he had been forced to stop for breath, but he was glad that the Daroga was asleep so he hadn't noticed Erik's weakness. He had gasped for air as the burning pain shot through his entire body, and almost made him drop the sleeping man that he held in his arms. He had been forced to lean towards the cellar wall for a while, but the pain subsided after a few minutes, and he felt how his heartbeat became more regular again.  
  
He knew he was going to die, no medicine in the world could heal a dying man. Heart problems were common amongst singers, or so he had heard. It was ironic in a way, his only blessing in life led to a premature death.  
  
But he welcomed death in a way. It just had such bad timing; like most things in his life had, it seamed. He had just found love. Christine loved him.  
  
No she didn't!  
  
But she could have.  
  
She looked beyond the mask, and had looked beyond it for some time. She didn't care that much about what was beneath it anymore. And she had even agreed to become his living wife. She had said yes to him, and now they were man and wife.  
  
Man and wife!  
  
Oh, how sweet the married life was! If you were married you were allowed to touch your wedded wife. And he had touched her, they had danced, danced! He had never danced before, but it had been lovely! She had been so warm, and so soft. People in forced marriages could find happiness later.  
  
But now he was going to die.  
  
So much for the Opera Ghost!  
  
Ghosts can't die though. But they can feel pain. Too many times he had experienced that, both physical and mental pain. But soon it would all be over. Death had a way of ending everything.  
  
Maybe one day he would really haunt the Opera House from the "other side"?  
  
Erik also mused over the poor managers at the opera. Since he was going to die, he certainly didn't need the twenty thousand Francs they had so kindly given him, maybe he should give the money back to the poor chaps?  
  
He woke three times during that night by the chest pains that refused to leave him alone.  
  
Somehow it felt convenient that he was sleeping in a coffin. If he were to die while he slept, he had nothing to worry about, other than perhaps Raoul. He had to remember to unlock the door to the dungeon in the morning so the young man could get out in case something should happen to him. He was the only one who knew the old way down there, and no matter how much the great booby deserved to rot away down there, he had promised Chistine to spare the young man's life. Had he not? 


	6. Eriks tricks

Disclaimer: If you haven't done your best to get a hold of and read the original book, written by Gaston Leroux, (and which you can even find online) I am VERY disappointed with you! But I still hope you enjoy my humble story here, which I try my best to base on Leroux story. His book is like my bible. I always have it with me, I always have Erik by my side. =)  
  
~ Chapter six ~  
  
As Erik walked back up towards the house again he thought of the fact that he might have a small conscience after all.  
  
Not like any normal man, of course, but something that stopped his actions sometimes.  
  
Like when the small ballet-girls got dressed, or when La Sorelli met men privately in her room. Those were some of the moments when his 'conscience', or whatever it was, stepped in and stopped him from listening and watching them any further, and he then disappeared like the ghost he was into the shadows of the opera again.  
  
It was really strange how he didn't have any problems when it came to killing another creature, but how he yet respected people's privacy.  
  
When it came to killing somebody, he preferred it if it went quick, that's why he loved his Punjab lassos. He had several of them, and they served him very well. With just a flick of his wrist he could send someone to death with it, quick and rather painless. It was also a clean killing, no unnecessary bloodshed.  
  
It made him feel powerful, that split second when he knew the snare was around the neck of his victim, and before he with a swift movement ended that person's life. That moment he was God. He decided over life and death- And the feeling of being God, ending the life of someone else's divine creation, was both intoxicating and addictive.  
  
It scared him sometimes.  
  
He also had things like the torture chamber, and he knew of the horrible ways of killing others also. He had learned and seen more than any person should ever have to see and learn about the horrors you might do to a person's body and mind before his or her time is up.  
  
The little sultana had known what she wanted, and he had provided her with it. She had taught him a lot.  
  
In Persia it was either to kill for her or to be killed by her. There was no middle way.  
  
He knew how to make men beg for their lives, and some of them (most actually) didn't deserve to live anyway, so he had learned long ago to ignore those calls for mercy. If he hadn't he surely would have been more insane now than he already was.  
  
But some of the tricks he had learned along the way had been quite useful. Yes, Erik knew of a lot of tricks. Tricks that could make little vicious sultana laugh.  
  
When she had killed off all her enemies, she started killing all her friends. Sure, not all of them were innocent, but some were, but they all died just like the others. Murder was the little sultana's private hobby. And the torture chamber he had built for her and later for himself was something she really enjoyed in the beginning. Before she grew tired of it, like a child that grows tired of a toy after a while. And she wanted more, something more horrifying, more disgusting to clench her everlasting thirst for blood.  
  
He didn't know why he had build the exact copy of it in the Opera House, and in the beginning he didn't think he would ever have to use it here. He thought that perhaps his years in Persia had made him become more paranoid than he was aware of himself, but then one day Joseph Buquet had literary stepped straight into it. And by doing so he had come closer to Erik's house than anyone from above ever had before.  
  
Close to Erik's secrets.  
  
He had to die for what he knew. He had already seen Erik once, and since then everybody seemed to know what he looked like without his mask.  
  
So even though Erik knew he was there, he hadn't let him out, he had just let the torture chamber do it's trick to the man, who within a couple of hours he had hung himself in the iron tree to end his suffering. The iron tree had been like a salvation after the long hours in the hot African desert.  
  
Afraid of being discovered, Erik was since that day glad that he had his torture chamber between his own realm and the world above. It made him feel safer, and he now knew that building it was the right choice to make.  
  
To scare of anyone else that might pry around where they shouldn't, he had hung up Buquet's body between a farm-house and a scene from Roi de Lahore, just over the entrance to the torture chamber, to be found. It was a statement saying: "This is what happen if you talk about the Opera Ghost, and this is what happens if you walk too far in my kingdom."  
  
He then thought of the fact that his Punjab lasso made of catgut might raise some suspicion. So he quickly took the man down, and retrieved his lasso, before anyone had had the time to examine it.  
  
It had been a close call. He didn't like to think what might have happened if the torture chamber hadn't been built there, and what might have happened if Buquet had found the entrance to his home instead. If he had left the door open to the Louis-Philippe room, or something.  
  
So he made it a rule to always have the invisible door to the torture chamber closed, and that week he made more safety signals that should go off if anyone from above should dare to go that far down again. He refused to get uninvited guests again!  
  
Guests that were uninvited deserved to die!  
  
But he didn't want to think about that now. Now he had to prepare some breakfast for his dear Christine, she would surely wake up any minute now! 


	7. Good morning?

Disclaimer: I've told you once, I've told you a million times, and since I will only tell you one million and one times, listen good this time, okay? I do NOT own Erik, Gaston Leroux does. There! I've said it. Now continue reading, and don't forget to add your review after you've finished. Enjoy!  
  
~ Chapter seven ~  
  
He hurried his steps and entered the kitchen right away. He could enter any room he wanted from the outside, since every room had at least two hidden entrances to it.  
  
He had just started putting bread and butter onto the table when he heard a tired gasp from the doorway. He quickly put on the black mask, which he always had hidden in one of his inner cloak pockets, cursing himself for not hearing her sooner. Then he turned and saw Christine standing there, trying to hide her gasp with her hand.  
  
"Tired?" he asked. "You are up earlier than I thought you would be. I haven't even had time to prepare our breakfast yet."  
  
"Oh, don't worry, I'll help you."  
  
"No, that's not necessary. Sit down and rest for a while instead, I'm soon finished anyway."  
  
She did as he commanded and sat down on one of the beautifully decorated kitchen chairs, while she watched Erik putting out the rest of the breakfast on the table.  
  
This was what he liked. When it was just the two of them.  
  
She sat there, at his table, so naturally, as if it was only a table, any table, and not one owned by a monster. She was so special! He had never met anyone like her. A woman, but still a child in so many ways, and yet, he didn't scare her anymore. She looked at him putting the marmalade on the table without any fear in her eyes. She was just tired, not scared. There wasn't any sign of fright in her eyes.  
  
Oh, it was so lovely to have someone that wasn't jumping out of fear by the pure sight of him, even with the mask on. No matter what he had done to her two nights ago, she was relaxed now, she trusted him.  
  
He made the daring move to lean over her, testing her limits towards him, you might say, when he put out a plate in front of her. But she didn't move! She didn't even move! He even dared to touch her shoulder a bit, oh, just a bit, but she must have felt it, and still she hadn't moved an inch. He backed off from her again. The feeling of joy was almost overwhelming.  
  
This was what he wanted. This was what he'd dreamed of for so long. To have someone who didn't treat him any differently than any other man, someone that made him feel like anyone else, and that wasn't terrified by him.  
  
Oh, desired object of my sweet passion! How can I love you so strongly? I read most of what I know of love in books. It's nothing I've ever experienced, yet love fills my heart and mind. Will I ever be free from you?  
  
As he had stood there for a while, watching the pure miracle before him, Christine turned her blond head to look at what he was doing. Since he was only quietly observing her, she quickly blushed and turned her head back to the table again.  
  
Feeling forced to break the odd silence but still not knowing what to say, she asked:  
  
"Aren't you joining me for breakfast?"  
  
"If it is your will", he calmly said.  
  
Christine nodded her head.  
  
Erik walked around the table and sat down at the same chair he had sat in the night before.  
  
"Why are you wearing a mask again Erik?"  
  
Erik looked at her.  
  
"I didn't think you would like to see a monster this early in the day, it can't be good for the appetite", he coldly replied.  
  
Christine felt oddly hurt by that reply and bit her lip and didn't dare to look him in the eyes out of fear for his rage when she said:  
  
"I thought I had burned them all."  
  
Erik saw how what he said affected Christine and decided to try and not make her upset any more than necessary. She didn't have to know of the fact that he had just as many masks as he might require. After all, he did live in an Opera House, did he not? He decided to lie.  
  
"This one is the last one I have left. But if you wish I could remove it for you, it's a bit hard to eat with it on anyway."  
  
He quietly awaited her reply, making sure he hadn't misunderstood her earlier. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps she was only glad that he wore the mask again? But no, Christine quietly said:  
  
"Please do so. I don't want any borders between us anymore. Not now. we are married, remember? I want to face my husband, not a black mask all the time."  
  
"As you wish, my wife" Erik said and turned away his head as he removed the mask. He closed his eyes knowing, even though he didn't have any mirror in the room, exactly how hideous he looked. He took a deep breath before he turned to face Christine, afraid as always that she would react the same way she had done the first time she had ripped the mask off him, he was mentally prepared for screams of horror. He was stiff and ready to catch her in case she would faint by the sight of him, but now she wasn't even looking! She was buttering a piece of bread!  
  
"Could you please pass me the bread, Erik?"  
  
Erik looked at her suspiciously, if she would have the slightest glimpse of fear or disgust in her eyes he would notice it. But she was acting more normal than she ever had down in his house. Christine passed him the bread and took some marmalade on the piece of bread she had served herself.  
  
Erik felt odd. The whole scenery was odd. It was as if he was there and yet, not. Because something like this can't happen to a monster such as Erik. Monsters don't have normal lives. God forbids it.  
  
He still tried to take control over the situation. He had to have control!  
  
"Would you like to have a singing lesson after you've finished, dear?"  
  
Christine looked at him with a smile, but had her mouth filled with bread so it took a while before she could reply him.  
  
"Yes, that would be nice. I like our morning singing-lessons. They make me feel strong the rest of the day somehow."  
  
Erik nodded for he knew how she felt. The air that filled the lungs before you started singing the first note in the morning was energetic and awoke your soul.  
  
"We will have to sing something from the opera then!"  
  
Christine giggled at his enthusiasm, her eyes aglow with life and Erik took a piece of bread himself and started buttering it, thinking how he could get used to bright mornings such as this, together with Christine. That was when he felt the first chest-pain for the day strike.  
  
This time it was as if a hand squeezed his heart and the pain spread out to his arm and it made him grimace out of agony. He dropped the piece of bread on the floor, and gasped for air and fell towards the table. In a distance he could hear Christine scream his name out of shock and fear.  
  
The thoughts that crossed his mind before the pain made him pass out was that Christine had never seen him have an attack like this before, even though he had had several. "You sure pick your timing, God."  
  
Then everything went black and his body fell down on the floor 


	8. The awakening

Disclaimer: Well, I don't need one really, all the typo's and weird sentences are ALL MINE! /The Swedish Phan Maria Fredriksson.  
  
~ Chapter eight ~  
  
My God what had happened? They had just started having breakfast and then Erik had just fallen down lifeless on the floor! Christine rushed to Erik's side, and noticed how his breathing was irregular, and how his right arm was stiff as if he had cramp. She screamed his name, not knowing what had happened or how to act, she finally decided, (after checking his pulse and breath both one and two times to make sure he wasn't dead) to try to get him to bed. He couldn't lie on the floor!  
  
She half-carried, half-dragged Erik's body into her own room, since she didn't want to put him in a coffin. She didn't like his room anyway, so even though her own was a bit further to get to, she heaved Erik's surprisingly light body on her own mattress.  
  
He started to moan of pain as she did so, and she hoped that he would wake up, since the whole situation scared her more than ever. She couldn't bring a doctor down here. Erik didn't allow anyone down here! "Oh, please God let him wake up!" She decided to try to get his attention.  
  
"Erik! Erik? Erik, please, wake up Erik, Erik I need you! You can't leave me like this. Do you hear me? You have to wake up Erik! Erik?"  
  
She saw him make another grimace and heard him moan again, so she took his arm that was still in a stiff position and started to try and massage it to make the cramp loose its grip.  
  
Finally he opened his eyes, and she could tell by the expression in them that he was trying to say something.  
  
"Hush Erik! You have to breathe! Just. whatever you want to tell me, just." She felt so helpless.  
  
Quickly she said: "Do it later."  
  
He tiredly nodded his head before he fell back against the pillows again; the cramp in his arm seemed to give in, and Christine saw how his fingers slowly started to relax again.  
  
His breath started to become more and more regular now, and after what seemed like an eternity, he had fallen asleep.  
  
Christine slowly rose from her position on the floor next to the bed, and left the room.  
  
Back in the kitchen everything was a mess. Milk was spilled out on the floor and the jug was in pieces scattered all over the room. It had all happened so quickly. In a daze she slowly picked up the pieces of china, dried up the spilled milk with a cloth and put away the food still on the table. Then she sat down on her kitchen-chair again, but quickly rose again as she felt restless and didn't want to be in the room where everything had happened, so she went to her room, feeling worried over Erik.  
  
Quietly she opened the door, and went in on toe to get her Bible, she then sat down in an armchair that was positioned in the corner of the room. But when she had opened the holy book, in which she always used to read every morning and night, she couldn't read it.  
  
The fear she had felt when Erik had collapsed in front of her very eyes, a fear even bigger than the one she had felt for his rage once. And all the hopelessness and helplessness she had felt made tears start falling down her face. And before she knew it she was crying silently out of relief over the fact that Erik was still alive.  
  
He was only sleeping.  
  
She wanted to have answers, she wanted to know what had happened just now and she cursed herself for not knowing anything about medicine. If he could only wake up and clear things up for her!  
  
But he was still asleep. And he probably needed his sleep, whatever had struck his body, it now needed time to recover from it. She knew that much.  
  
When the tears had ran out she was glad that Erik hadn't seen her cry. He would probably just misunderstand them anyway. She took a deep breath and finally started reading, glad to have all her feelings under control again.  
  
When Erik woke up he felt better again. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. Christine had fallen asleep in a chair in the corner. He slowly rose, making sure that all the pain was gone and then took away the book Christine had been reading, a gift from her father and one of her most valuable possessions. He then gently lifted her up and placed her on the bed where he had just been. He tried not to wake her. There was no need to, since he was just fine now. But she almost woke up in his arms, so he started singing to her. Singing her to sleep, just like he had done another time. And it worked. No words were necessary when you had music as your guide to dreamland.  
  
After Erik had made sure that Christine was asleep in her own bed, he went to his room and sat down at the organ. He stroke the keys and started humming along to the sound the organ made when he pressed the keys down. After a while the music held him prisoner and he composed again. Not a Don Juan Triumphant, but something even more strange. And he enjoyed it!  
  
Christine woke by the sound of Erik's organ. He was playing it again. She wasn't really surprised, he would always play and sing. She went out to the drawing room to look for something to do and then suddenly her eyes fell down to the little bag of life and death. Curiosity overtook her and she felt a need to take a look inside it. Erik recovered it the last time she had it.  
  
Erik heard something outside his door, and understood that Christine was awake again. He cursed himself for waking her up, and got up to speak to her.  
  
Christine hadn't even noticed that the organ had stopped playing, she was slowly walking towards the bag of life and death, and she hadn't seen it lying there on the shelf before. Her hands shook as she took it up and she felt that it had something inside, she untied the knot and didn't hear the man standing behind her, watching her every move with eyes that glowing out of rage. 


	9. Lies

Disclaimer: Why not check out Charles Dance Phantom of the opera miniseries? Or listen to Faust while reading this? Just a thought since the original story is owned by Gaston Leroux. but oh! That's right! Faust is Gounod's and the Charles Dance miniserie is Yeston/Kopit's. Darn. I don't even own that!  
  
~ Chapter nine ~  
  
Why wouldn't she leave his things alone? He had asked her specifically not to touch his mask, yet she had ripped it off. He had asked her specifically not to touch the bag of life and death, and what was it now she was holding?  
  
He felt rage coming upon him, it started storming within his soul, and he cursed all females on earth for not being able to leave certain things alone. If Erik's secrets cease to remain Erik's secrets, it will be a bad lookout for a goodly number of the human kind.  
  
She knew there were two bronze keys in the bag, and that one of them went to the torture-chamber, but she had no idea why Erik had been so secretive when it came to the other one. She had to know where the other key went.  
  
She had just finally untied the knot to the little bag when she heard a voice that roared like thunder behind her.  
  
"So, you have a death-wish, after all?"  
  
Christine jumped at the sound of his voice, and quickly tried to hide the little leather bag in her skirt before she turned only to see that Erik probably had seen all he needed to see. The blood froze to ice in her veins out of fright, yet she tried to sound natural.  
  
"Erik, you've stopped playing! I didn't hear you come in!"  
  
"No, I can see that." he said and gave a sinister chuckle.  
  
"Christine, now I know I must be subject to hallucinations, you know what I just thought I saw. You look nervous Christine, what's the matter? .I thought I saw you holding the little bag of life and death just now, even though I specifically forbade you ever to touch it."  
  
Christine tried to hide the bag even more in her skirt, and her knuckles whitened as she held the little bag as hard as she could.  
  
"What are you talking of Erik? I don't know what you're talking about!"  
  
Erik slowly stepped closer to her with heavy steps.  
  
"No, of course not. I mean, I told you it was the bag of life and death, so why should you ever want to touch it again, since I gave the Daroga and your little precious Raoul life and there's logically only one key left in the bag after that?"  
  
Erik was now standing just a meter away from Christine, and there he stopped, smiling a strange smile to her.  
  
"You are shaking my dear Christine, what's the matter? Is it not warm enough in here for you? I light all the fires this morning, as I always do, so why are you shaking?"  
  
Christine knew she was doomed, yet she clanged on to hope.  
  
"I think I'm getting sick, Erik. Maybe I've got fever. I don't feel that good."  
  
"If you want something warm, dear, you know where to find Africa, do you not? If you wish, I can turn on the spectacle again. Just for you."  
  
"No, Erik! No! I'm not that sick, look, let's just sit down or something. It feels as if you're questioning me out or something, Erik?"  
  
Christine nervously laughed and moved towards one of the chairs in the room. Erik followed her.  
  
"Do I have a reason for questioning you, Christine?"  
  
"Erik. No! Why do you say that? What would that be? Of course not!"  
  
He walked closer to her, towering up over her, and suddenly grabbed the hand in which she held the little leather bag and forced it up under her eyes.  
  
Christine screamed out of fear when Erik's cold bony fingers dug deep into her skin.  
  
"What's this my dear? It's not an illusion is it?"  
  
"Erik, Erik, you're hurting me! Let me go!"  
  
Erik started laughing a mad, hysterical laugh. Silently at first, but it grew stronger and stronger in volume and suddenly filled the entire room. Christine covered her ear with her only free hand, screaming for him to stop it, and let her go. The laugh was so loud that it felt as if her head would burst. She screamed out of fear, and if Erik hadn't hold her so hard she would have tried to run, but now there was nowhere for her to go.  
  
After a while the laughter echoed out. Erik stopped laughing, but watched her with eyes that burned down in her soul. Now she didn't have the Daroga, or Raoul to save her, now she had no one that could save her from the madman, this time she was alone.  
  
The nightmare had started anew. 


	10. The cabinet

Disclaimer: Well, I'm supposed to tell you here that I don't own these characters, but in fact I do. They came to me, I didn't ask them to take me over, they just did it anyway.  
  
~Chapter ten~  
  
Erik seemed to ponder for a few seconds that seemed like ages.  
  
"Come here, you wanted to know what the key of death is all about, now I'll show you." he said and pulled her by the arm out of the drawing room and into his own, dreadful bedroom.  
  
"What are you doing with me Erik? Erik please let me go, you're hurting me. Erik, please!" she shouted, but his determined mind seemed as fixed as his disfiguredment, and she wasn't even sure that he could hear her. He snatched the bag from her hand, and flipped it upside down, and she saw the key that was left in it fall into his bony hand. He threw the bag away, and stepped up to a dark cabinet she had never thought of before, next to the organ, almost completely hidden behind piles of notes. With a annoyed or angry (she couldn't tell which) sound he pushed the notes away with his free arm so they fell into a chaos on the floor like big snowflakes on the first winterday, and thus cleared the view of the dark cabinet in the corner.  
  
It was magnificently decorated, and must have been made out of mahogony. Tiny rosebuds surrounded the cabinet door and the door itself, that had looked so dark recently was actually made of darkblue glass, but very dusty.  
  
He glanced at her, and didn't know why, but he actually felt a need to explain the cabinets dusty outside, or quickly dust it off with his arm, but then he shook that feeling off. He shouldn't feel the need to explain anything to anyone, not about this, not about anything. This was his buisness, and should have stayed that way, if Christine hadn't touched the key of death!  
  
He put the key in a tiny locker at the left side of the cabinet, turned the key, and opened the door. Inside there was this sort of jar looking thing.  
  
"Happy now?!" Was all he could say, and then he let Christine go and turned away, walked a couple of steps away and he waited with crossed arms until he heard the question he knew would come.  
  
"What's that?" Christine was afraid to go and have a closer look, knowing Erik this could be anything from highly deadly poison to. well whatever that sick, twisted mind of his could come up with. She didn't dare to trust him any more. There must have been a reason for his anger in the drawing room. She heard Erik sigh over her shoulder, but he didn't offer any reply. She took a step back, afraid that the lock mechanism might have light something that might blow up in her face or something, but then she remembered that Erik had never hurt her with any of his gadgets. yet anyway. So she stepped closer again.  
  
"Erik is it dangerous?" She turned to look at him. "Erik, is it dangerous? Answer me Erik!" He shrugged and said with a thoughtful voice "It can wound you by the heart if you're not careful. but for you? No, it's not dangerous Christine."  
  
"What is that Erik?" He walked past her and picked the jar up, and when he took it out of the cabinet and pulled it into the light she saw that it wasn't a jar, which she had at first thought. It was an urne!  
  
"That, my dear, is yours truly birthmother. The original owner to some of the things I have down here, and the one who taught me to serve and be an obedient servant to others originally."  
  
"But." said Christine and swallowed hard "why didn't you burry her?"  
  
"I thought about it." he said, turning the urne, looking at it in different angles ". but then I thought, why give someone eternal rest at the cemetary, who hasn't given me any rest for the last thirty something years? When she died she left several questions unanswered, so why should I let her rest in peace? She hasn't given me any!"  
  
She could see that he was sinsere about all of this, because his stiff, and hurt bodylanguage said more than his words did, and he usually could keep his cool, she knew that much.  
  
"When you went to see your fathers grave at Perros- Guirec, Christine, I thought I would burry her there, near the churchwall, but I couldn't. She still haunted my thoughts even then. Even then she refused to let me go."  
  
Christine put her hand on Eriks stiff shoulder, and could feel him tense under her touch.  
  
"You have to let her go some day, Erik."  
  
"I know." he said. "But not just yet, that's why I keep her here. In this deathcabinet. I like to think that I can make her suffer a bit, just like she made me suffer." Leaving the thoughtful voice, seemingly remembering what had brought them to the cabinet in the first place he said "You see Christine, death isn't always pleasant, and you, as a faithful Christian should know that as long as I don't burry her in sacred ground, she won't have any rest. I won't let her." he said and put the urne back into the cabinet, closed the door to it, and locked it again "And if you don't start obaying my orders, you might end up in one of these too! " he said, and walked out of the room in a rage that seemed to hide something more. Sadness perhaps? Or hopelessness? She couldn't tell.  
  
As he slammed the door shut Christine realized how terrified she had been, and afraid of loosing her life, just a couple of minutes earlier, so she started to shake, and even though she tried to hold them back, revealing tears fell down her cheeks.  
  
"What have I gotten myself into?" she said to herself, and dried her tears with the back of her hand, and then started to pick up the notes from the floor, not ready to meet Erik again just yet. 


	11. The devil within

Disclaimer: Years ago I left this story unfinished… but it has started to write itself back into my heart again. Erik won't let me go. Neither will the other characters in this story. For those of you that complain over my spelling or grammar I want to point out to you that neither English nor French is my native language so please have patience with me. And if you like this story or have liked it in the past and want to read more, please write a comment. They keep me going!

~Chapter eleven~

Erik was upset with himself and with Christine. She shouldn't have touched the bag in the first place. If she hadn't touched it he wouldn't have lost his temper. And if she hadn't touched it he wouldn't have been reminded of what a terrible person his own mother was. He hated his mother with a passion. She had never loved him because he was a constant reminder of her own miserable life. She was a whore, a prostitute and Erik knew she had no idea who Eriks real father was. She once claimed he was a mason, but in reality the men had been too many to keep track. Erik was born in a small village named Lyons-la-Forêt, outside of the town Rouen. His real name was Acel, but the name meant ´nobility´and he had never felt nobel in his entire life, nor would he ever, so he had changed his name to Erik.

Erik was a good name. Erik meant "alone, always" and "great, powerful king" all at the same time. He thought the name Erik was fitting to his character and his sense of humor. He had not used his birthname Acel since his mother died, and he never would again.

After his mothers death he had been travelling a lot. He didn't have a home. He had never felt like he had a home. It wasn't until he helped to build the opera house he decided it was time for him to settle down. He had always had a love for music and what better place to build a house than underneath an opera house? He thought the music could heal his soul, but so far the darkness within him was too great. Maybe it would never fade away?

One day he had found some gunpowder from when the Paris Commune used the opera house as a shelter and storage, and even though it was old it had given him a great idea. He would also store gunpowder under the opera house and maybe one day he would make them all hop like a grasshopper! That hadn't happened though because Christine had turned the scorpion instead. Christine… so naughty and so nosy! She should learn how to leave his things alone!

He walked up to and opened a secret closet with a full collection of different masks in it. These masks she hadn't been able to burn, that nosy Swedish girl. These masks were all hidden from her. He had several commedia dell arte masks and old venetian ones and others he had made himself. He put a grin on his face when he got out one he had made himself. It was a special mask, he had only used it on very special occasions. On one side it was a sad, crying Poirot mask, with pieces of small diamondshaped mirrors around it. It looked so pityful it could make you cry. But on the other side it had a terrible horned red devils mask. He had to teach Christine a lesson he thought… so he took the red devil mask and put it on.

Back in the room where he had left her Christine had managed to dry her tears but were still trying to organise the notes when she heard a terrible noise behind her. She quickly turned and saw Erik standing there with a pitchfork in his hand and the most terrible mask she had ever she wasn't prepared for. He didn't look like his usual death self, he didn't even look like the Red death. He looked like the devil himself!

"Erik!" He growled and was walking slowly towards her, scaring her. "Erik don't do that, take off that mask, didn't I burn them all? Erik stop that you're scaring me!"

"There is no Erik here madame… only the Beast, Satan, Prince of darkness… or the devil as you might know him…" he said and raised the pitchfork, aiming for her head.

"Erik what is wrong with you! I'm sorry about your mother, I truly am!" he cut her short replying  
"I have no mother… so there's nothing to be sorry about. I am a demon…" He kept on coming closer and now she was really afraid because she could see his yellow eyes burning in the sockets behind the mask.

Christine backed up until she hit the bookshelf behind her and could feel the books sticking into her back and she had nowhere else to go.  
"Erik I know I hurt your feelings but you mustn't do this, you mustn't scare me like this! Erik!"


	12. Chicken race

Disclaimer: I own everything. Except for everything I wish I owned... which includes all of these characters etc. =P They belong to Gaston Leroux!

~Chapter twelve~

Erik could see how scared Christine was. It brought a blush to her face and tears glistened in her eyes. She was so beautiful. He could see that she was standing against the bookshelf, with nowhere else to go and his darker side took hold of him. He made her feel even more trapped with one hand on either side of her, he then leaned his devil face close to her. So close he could smell her faint perfume and see the quick pulse on her neck.

"Erik you're scaring me…" she quietly whispered this time, too afraid even to say something to his disliking out loud. He smiled then to himself… and had an inner struggle about whether or not he should let her go this time. But he decided against it. Besides, he might even enjoy this. He took his right arm and pressed the pitchfork against her breast, he could see the points of it push down on her soft breast against the fabric. He then used it to push up her chin so she had to face him.

"I believe we forgot about our wedding kiss… and you know nothing can restrain Erik, not even Erik himself…" he mumbled and she could hear him breathe heavily, as if he was trying to put a strain on himself, from the anger or from the sexual tension, she couldn't tell which. She however firmly closed her eyes and whispered "I'm not kissing the devil Erik…"

Lost in his own thoughts Erik didn't hear her. He was too fascinated by her long eyelashes and that lovely shade of her cheeks.

" What was that Christine, I didn't hear you… surely you're not afraid of your little husband…" he mumbled again and this time, if possible, it sounded as if he had gotten even closer. Christine still refused to open her eyes and just repeated "I'm not kissing the devil!" She then heard a strange sound, almost like a grunting noise and if she didn't know any better she would have thought he was laughing at her!

"Oh, Christine… my dearest Christine… we will all meet him sooner or later. I do admit in my case it's probably sooner rather than later, but even wicked Swedish blondes can't escape the Dark Lord Christine." Christine swallowed hard and felt the tip of the pitchfork digging into the sensitive skin under her chin as she did so. "I am not wicked, you mustn't think that." She said, but heard that it came out like a whimper so she repeated it louder and decided to open her eyes and turn towards him as she did so. She couldn't give up so easily, so she yelled "I am not wicked!"

When she opened her eyes she saw him completely transformed. She even had to blink a couple of times to realize it was real. Somehow, although she didn't know how or when, Erik had changed masks, not taking his arms away from her sides, and now he had the saddest Poirot mask on and it looked as if it was crying. No more red horns on his forehead, just black tears going down his cheeks with some small, diamond shaped mirrors here and there. Now she noticed that the pitchfork was gone too. She looked for it on the floor but it was nowhere in sight. When she had her head turned down she felt Erik's cold fingers tilt her head back up again.

"Erik you must believe me I'm really sorry for what I did." He hushed her and let his fingers slowly slide down her neck to the point where her pulse was beating. Something strange happened then, it must have been the adrenaline rush he had just put her through because she was feeling somewhat aroused by the sensation.  
"I know Christine, but you must learn once and for all never to disobey me again like that! How else am I supposed to trust you? I must know that your heart is pure." When he said ´heart´ he moved his hand down her chest and placed it over her heart. The cool hand felt nice against her burning skin and she tried to relax somewhat. He seemed to have calmed down again. He was so changeable!

"I promise never to disobey you again. If I had known what it was I would have never..."  
"Erik have secrets you will never know Christine, dark secrets that are best kept hidden forever. But just trying to find them out will cost you…" Erik said and dared himself to slide his hand down to her breast as she started to breathe quicker again when he reached the nipple.

"What?"

"That wedding kiss." he said and looked deeply into her eyes, challenging her to say no. It was almost like a chicken race. She knew she couldn't back down unless she wanted to see him angry again. And now it was her move.


	13. The ordinary man

Disclaimer: I have Erik kidnapped. He now resides in my heart where he sings like a nightingale and tries to Punjab me on rainy Thursdays. Gaston Leroux own this.

~Chapter thirteen~

"Alright Erik… then you shall have it. After all there's no one here except you and me."

Erik suddenly gave out a giggle when he realized that what Christine had just said was just what Richard had whispered once when it came to his twenty thousand Francs and the safety-pin they tried to secure them with. Christine looked puzzled though and when he saw her sincere expression he was grateful that the mask hid his face that was turning red because of it.

He let his hands drop to his sides, and turned his head to the side, giving her the opportunity to kiss him on the masks cheek. When she leaned forward and did, he softly put his arm around her waist. He did it softly as to not alarm her. Then he started to hum. Out of… was it joy? The feeling was so unusual to him that he had a hard time recognizing it, but it must have been joy. Here they were, alone. And she was kissing his poor Poirot's tears. His humming even seemed to relax her while doing it.

Surely he was loved for himself, and for his own sake by her. He closed his eyes and heard the quiet sound of her soft lips touching the mask, kissing it once, twice… three times more. Deep down he knew it was all an illusion, but that illusion made him feel better than anything else in the world so that's why he kept on doing it, even though he knew she had that booby Raoul somewhere waiting for her return.

He raised his hands to the mask and noticed how she naturally pulled away a bit to give him space to take it off. Underneath it is where he kept his real surprise though. He hadn't been sure whether or not he should show her it, but now seemed to be the right time to do so.

He was wearing the mask that made him look like an ordinary man underneath the devil and Poirot mask.

Christine couldn't believe her eyes when Erik first took off the Poirot mask and her jaw dropped. She had almost thought she was starting to grow used to his hideous face, or as used as one could be. But that wasn't what he showed her this time.

He had another mask underneath only this one wasn't from Commedia dell arte or some other play. This full-faced mask made him look like an ordinary man. He looked up timidly towards her, apparently afraid of what she was going to think about it. And honestly she didn't know what to think. She never thought she was a shallow woman but this mask made him look good, like a normal person compared to the monster she knew were underneath it all. With the soft, delicate voice of an angel he said "Like I said to you before Christine; Love me and I swear I will be gentle as a lamb towards you dear."

It would have been so easy for her to say yes right then. To forget that he had scared her half to death several times and that Raoul was somewhere waiting for her to marry him instead. To forget the bruises on her arms that were just there and that had been made by him. To forget that he was a murderer and a monster and convince herself that he didn't have the devil inside him.

But she knew too well this wasn't his real self. But if it was, oh if it was would she have been interested? If he was a man that she actually could go out with on Sundays, and if he was a man like any other, only with a magnificent voice and an ingenious mind? With his clothes on and his cape he could now almost pass like a normal man. If he had worn his felt hat too so she hadn't seen his lack of hair he surely would have. She was trapped in her own imagination when his voice seemed to come to her from first her right side and then her left, whispering in her ear even though he stood a bit away from her.

"So what do you think my sweet little wife? Is my face now to your liking?"


	14. The park

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux is THE only owner of the Phantom of the opera. All of us others are just his humble servants, waiting to get a letter signed O.G.

~Chapter fourteen~

Christine tried to find her composure again.

"Erik what have you done?" She took a small step forward to examine him closer. His mask looked so lifelike! His eyes and hair was the only thing that was still out of the ordinary. His eyes because they were so small and yellow and his hair because… well because there was no hair, only on a few spots on his head. But the mask he wore had eyebrows, a perfect nose, full lips and a masculine jaw line.

With the voice he knew he could intoxicate her with he replied "I've become a man Christine. An ordinary man. A man you can love easily and who can take you out on Sundays. A man who can accompany you to the ballet and go shopping with you at the market in Les Halles..." she only heard him briefly, he seemed full of bubbling enthusiasm but when she raised her hand to touch his face he grew quiet. It wasn't what she had expected, even though she didn't know what she had expected. The mask wasn't like any of the other masks he had worn. This was different in so many ways she couldn't even begin to know how to describe it to someone. It was soft to the touch, and it almost felt humanlike. More humanlike than Erik's cold, real skin did. It was freaky.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice.

"I'm a genius, am I not? I made it myself after seeing a man just looking just like this walking at Rue Daunou. Do you like it Christine? I hope you like it, yes I hope you like it very much. I did it for you my little wife, I did it for you."

What could she say? She knew he wanted a reply. This was like nothing she had ever experienced before. This mask fit better with his beautiful voice because it was beautiful too, but she knew that underneath it all was Erik, the torturer, Erik the murderer. But he was also Erik the opera singer, Erik the composer, Erik the magician, Erik the illusionist, Erik… her angel of music. She knew he was manipulating her again but still she was completely honest when she replied.

"Yes Erik, I like it…"

He seemed to beam of pride over her reply.

"I knew you would Christine, I knew you would. Now maybe you can see me for what I truly am… yes that's what I thought. And you will be happy with me. Truly happy." He grabbed his felt hat and offered her his arm.

"Shall we go out?"

"Go out?" she knew he had let her go several times and that she had returned on her own, but that was for work. So she could sing to him on stage and he could watch her from box five.

"Yes, out!" He took a cane and pulled down the hat far enough so it wouldn't show his bald spots and started walking towards the boat. Like a gentleman he helped her get in it and then put some white gloves on. They took the boat to the other side and walking in silence along a way she hadn't been before they found their way out to the outside of the opera.

When they got out Christine realized how much she had missed the sun. And around them there was lots of people but no one took notice of Erik. She was afraid they would though. She was afraid that at any moment now someone would scream "Murderer!" or see that it was him, the opera ghost, but everybody passed them without even raising as much as an eyebrow.

"What about a walk along the Seine?" they walked all the way to Pont Royal, but they didn't cross the bridge, instead they walked along the Seine into the Jardin de Tuileries green park.

In the park there were people discussing politics, families having picnics, and she even saw a policeman. She thought for a split second to call for help, but then again she thought she was in no danger. Erik had scared her a lot but never really hurt her, and she had put herself in this situation alone so she would have to deal with it alone! All of a sudden a ball comes out of nowhere and hits Erik's foot. He stops in his step and she can feel her blood freeze to ice in her veins. What will he do? She saw a young boy, not more than six or seven run for the ball just as Erik picks it up from the ground.

"Is this yours?" Erik says. And to her surprise he just raises his arm to give the ball back. The boy takes the ball from Erik's white gloved hand and he looks at him for what felt like a lifetime but can't have been more than a split-second. The boy's light blue eyes look straight into Erik's yellow and he is just a few feet away from Erik's face. Then the boy turns and runs off, shouting a "Thank you monsieur!" over his shoulder. Christine looks intently on Erik's face and to her amazement he is smiling widely.

"Did you see that, dear? He didn't even look twice." Erik said as they continued walking. Erik grew braver after his first close encounter with another human being that he hadn't scared to death just by being himself. He stopped and bought her a rose from a young teenage girl who was selling them at the park entrance.

"A rose for a rose my dear." He said when he with courtesy handed it over to her. She couldn't help but blush when he did. After a while they headed back and along the way to the opera he asked her several times along the way if there was something she was missing 'at home' that they should buy on their way, but she just shook her head. She felt worn and needed to rest.

When they got back to the house by the lake Erik said he would leave shortly and get her something to eat so she sat down in the couch. When she finally allowed herself to relax she could feel her eyes falling down and before she knew it she had fallen asleep in the couch.


	15. Paradise

Disclaimer: I only own the story but sadly none of the characters used in it. If I did I'd release them from their ALW spell and let them run free!

~Chapter fifteen~

When Erik returned to the room with some bread and cheese he found Christine sound asleep in the couch. He put the silver plate with the food on the dinner table. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep, almost as if she was dead. But she wasn't. When he went closer he could see some strands of hair that had fallen down her face. He slowly took his white glove off and gently brushed them away from her eyes, careful not to wake her.

She was so fair, so beautiful. But he couldn't let her stay here for the night. He would have to move her to her bed. Would he dare? Yes, after all he was the Ghost was he not? Ghosts can move silently, and he had practiced his skill at moving without making a sound for so long that he knew that wouldn't be a problem.

He took off his gloves and coat jacket and lifted Christine up in his arms. Feeling the sensation of her warm body against his own, with only his shirt between them was almost too much. But all of a sudden her eyes flickered and he heard her mumble something. He leaned his ear closer to her mouth so he could hear her. He almost thought he was mistaking, but it sounded like her words were

"Remember when I said you have my soul? You still do…" He couldn't tell if she was dreaming or not.

He laid her down on her bed, carefully took off her small, black shoes, but then he had another inner struggle with himself. Could he? No he argued with himself, what if she woke up? He left and got some chloroform to make sure she actually stayed asleep. Putting the damp cloth over her mouth he heard her breathing growing even slower, and he knew she wouldn't wake up in a while.

He now dared to unleash her hair from the bun she had, the high fashion of the day. He let her blonde hair slide through his fingers before he let it rest on her pillow. After that he started unbuttoning her bodice. The small buttons were no match for his deft, nimble fingers, and when he was done he took the bodice off her. After the bodice he went back down to the hem of her dress skirt and touched her small, precious feet.

She was still wearing her socks so he followed them up underneath her skirt until he found the edge of the sock and then he rolled it off her leg, first he did her left foot and then he did her right. The skin on her thighs felt like silk under his fingertips.

After that he carefully took off her skirt so now all she wore was the corset and petticoat she used as underwear. He folded the rest of her clothes neatly and placed them on a stool near the bed, but before he did he enjoyed pressing the expensive fabric against his neck and smell the very essence that was uniquely _her_.

He looked at his pocket watch and saw that she would be asleep for at least another hour so he dared to take off his own shoes and lay down on the cover next to her. He even laid his arm around her and closed his eyes for just a moment. This was what paradise was like.

He wouldn't stay for long, he just wanted to enjoy her body heat for a moment, just a brief moment.

And so he fell asleep.


	16. Moving forward

Disclaimer: I am a humble servant to Gaston Leroux.

~Chapter sixteen~

Christine woke up with a strange taste in her mouth. She had no idea how she got to her bed. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the couch and waiting for Erik to prepare some food for her. She couldn't remember his return. She turned around and to her side she saw him, he was asleep and even had his arm around her! He was still wearing the mask though and looking at it she thought he looked so ordinary and relaxed that it brought a smile to her face. She knew about the coffin that was his regular sleeping place and she was curious as to what had happened to make him fall asleep so close to her. She could tell that he had undressed her and she saw her clothes on the stool next to the bed. She was surprised that he had done it without waking her, but she was also surprised that he hadn't tried to do anything more than that. After all she had been heavily asleep and still he had respected her. The only thing he had done was to fall asleep holding his arm around her waist in a kind of protective way. She couldn't help but to yawn and when she did he woke up with a startle. During a few heartbeats they just looked at each other and then all of a sudden Erik ran up and made sure the mask was in its right position before he spoke to her.

"Christine! I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I must have fallen asleep…" he seemed to be unsure of what to say to her.

"It's alright Erik…" Christine didn't know why but his embarrassment made her blush as well.  
" I was very tired last night too."

"I shall let you freshen up and prepare for the day. I will play something so you know where I am Christine."

"Thank you."

He turned, left the room and closed the door behind him and suddenly she heard notes from Liszt Liebesraum play all around her. She knew he must be playing it from his piano, he had one just near his organ, but it sounded like the music came out from the walls.

Christine got dressed quickly and went out just to hear the music even clearer when she got out of her room. It was almost intoxicating, and without thinking she found herself walking towards its source.

At the piano she found Erik completely focused in the Liszt piece with his eyes closed. If he had heard her come in, he didn't move a muscle to show it. She stopped behind his back, closed her eyes also and felt the kind of chill run up her spine that she only felt when she heard something played to perfection. She put her hands on Erik's shoulders and felt his tense muscles work as his arms and hands worked the piano, he only stiffened for a split-second when he felt her touch on his back. Maybe he had heard her enter the room after all?

To make him relax more she started massaging him gently. When the last note of Liebesraum died out there was a moment of silence. But it was almost as if Erik read her mind and also didn't want the moment to end because he continued playing, still keeping his eyes closed. This time he started with the notes to Liszt's Consolations No. 3. The notes seemed to flow through her body and left a tingling sensation everywhere they went. She started to feel hot all over and Erik's cool body under her hands attracted her in a way she couldn´t even begin to describe.

She fell down to her knees and leaned her head against his back, letting her hands rest against his waist. She could feel him breathe under her head and hear his heartbeat. She sat like that for a moment and she didn't know what came over her but she rose again and placed a light kiss on Erik's neck. When she did, she at first thought she would be appalled by it, but his cool skin under her hot lips felt so good that she felt more brave and she gave him another kiss in the same place, this one being more normal, and then Erik stopped playing.


	17. Nothing to be afraid of

Disclaimer: Erik has been stolen and I will keep him forever, so he is ALL MINE! Deal with it. Btw. I LOVE reading your comments so keep them coming!

~Chapter seventeen~

Oh if only the Daroga could see him now!  
Erik tried to ignore the tears that ran down his face, because they were itching his skin underneath the mask. But they were tears of happiness, pure happiness! He had first thought the feeling of Christine's lips against his skin was only a fiction of his imagination. Sometimes the music made him forget where he was and made him daydream so he would end up in another place. But when she had kissed him the second time he knew he hadn't been mistaking, and he had abruptly stopped playing, which was totally out of character for him. He was afraid to turn around. He! The ghost, found himself scared of a little girl. But she wasn't any girl. She was his Christine, his wife. And right now she was kissing his neck. How should he react to that? He had no idea!

"You make such sweet music it´s intoxicating…" Christine mumbled against Erik's neck. He almost started shivering underneath her mouth and her warm breath against his skin felt like silk.

"You are my muse, Christine. My Euterpe, my muse of music… The flute you use is your voice and I am but your humble servant in this world."

Erik nervously collected the old note sheets that had been left of a ballet piece he had written a week back or so, just to try to have something to do with his hands, but he still didn't want to get up from the piano stool, he was nervous and he silently cursed himself for showing it so clearly.

"Erik…" Christine spoke in a very low voice, almost in a whisper, but she was standing so close that he could feel her breath against his ear when she spoke.

"Yes?"

"What are you afraid of?"

Erik's mind had been prepared for almost any question on any subject, but not this! What was he afraid of? Did he even know? This part of life had been so excluded from his entire existence that he didn't even know what he was afraid of. Everything!

"I… I don't know…" He cleared his throat and tried to shrug his shoulders like it was nothing, but Christine knew she had hit the nail on the head.

"There's nothing to be afraid of Erik, turn around."

He did what she asked, if she had asked him to lick the ground she walked on he would also have happily obliged. His yellow eyes, still a bit wet and gleaming from his tears earlier met her blue for the second time that morning. She had put her hair up in a quick bun but he could still see some strands of hair sticking out, and she still looked a bit sleepy. She was so beautiful!

Erik had the mask on which made him look ordinary. It fitted him very well even though she didn't like masks or anything else that was fake, and masks had always made her wonder what there was the wearer was hiding behind one. She knew now what Erik was hiding behind his mask, and a part of her could understand him now. The walk they had the other day in the park would have been impossible if he hadn't worn that mask. And if she was being honest with herself she found it easier to talk with him when he was wearing it. It made her see him as normal, and almost made her forget where he lived and what a genius he was. His eyes was still his special feature and the way they were shining now, looking straight into hers made her wonder what fears, experiences and secrets were hidden behind them.

She felt a bit afraid herself. What she was about to do was just not right or common for a woman of her status, but then no one would find out, would they? And she had to, not only because she owed him so much, or because he was so special, but because she had found herself thinking about It more and more. What would it feel like to kiss Erik?

Maybe after she had found out she could join the "New women" suffragettes who fought for their rights and whom she had seen in the streets of Paris more than once, because what she was about to do should be the man's first step. She took Erik's hands and gently pulled him off the stool so he was standing in front of her. Then she hesitated for just a second before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. It felt a bit weird to kiss someone wearing a mask but when he opened his mouth in shock she saw her chance to make it grow deeper. He was hesitant at first but then his tongue replied to hers and they started tasting each other and she felt his arms go up around her waist and back, pressing her towards him. When they both stopped kissing from lack of air his eyes had the intensity of fire and passion and she bet hers looked the same. When she had taken a deep breath she started kissing him again, this time with her eyes closed, giving into the feeling of passion that she had. Erik raised his hands to her hair and then found himself caressing her cheeks, as if he was trying to touch her everywhere all at once. She smiled and when she pulled away for air again it was as if Erik was embarrassed for touching her boldly like that, because he pulled away and released her. She wanted to ask him to kiss her again, but at that moment her stomach made a growling sound and reminded her that she hadn't had breakfast yet. She blushed at the embarrassing sound and wondered why life never was as easy as it was in romance novels. They never had hunger disrupt any kisses in those books!

"I'm so sorry Christine, I forget myself. You haven't had breakfast yet!" Erik led her to the kitchen and she sat down while he put some bread, fruit and ham on the table and prepared some tea.

"I hope you will make me company Erik."

It looked like he smiled when she said that.

"If you wish." They both had breakfast and discussed the latest issue of Epoque and the art of the day. What they thought of the new piece from Debussy and among other things Sarah Bernhardt's latest trip to Stockholm.

"Do you miss Sweden Christine?"

She nodded in reply.

"Sometimes. To be honest I don't remember that much about it anymore. I was there once a couple of years ago to visit my family. You should have seen my mother! She was so nervous about what to offer a 'fine lady' like me to eat! I told her to just put another salted herring on the stove. My family has never had any money, and I haven't forgotten where I came from. It was strange to see them all having aged so much since I went away. I then happily paid for my father's trip over here to France so he could come with me. I was always closer to my father than my mother, since he, my brothers andI used to go singing on country fairs until I was discovered. It feels like such a long time ago now."

"I see."

"But something I _do_ miss is the fresh, clean air you can only get on a midsummer night in Sweden, and being close to the forest. Believe it or not but I've never really fit into the whole 'city girl' role one gets when living in Paris. But I am so grateful that I got the opportunity to be something special. And you were a big part of that, thank you."

"You're welcome."

After breakfast Christine decided to take a bath. It had been too long since she had had one and she wanted to relax for a while in the big bathtub that Erik owned with lions feet on it. Since Erik had offered to clean up the table after breakfast, Christine went to the bathroom.

She started filling up the tub with steamy hot water. She had always loved really hot baths. Then she started to undress herself. When she was naked she turned to the big mirror that was above the sink. She looked different, she thought. Was that the red glow of love on her cheeks? The one Meg and the other small ballet girls made people fun of for having if they had met someone special in their life? Maybe… She undid her bun and let her long blonde hair fall down her shoulders, and then she thought of what had happened during the morning. What would have happened if her stupid stomach hadn't stopped them? If they had both given in to the passion that they so clearly felt for each other? She closed her eyes and started caressing her own breasts, thinking it was Erik. If he was there would he dare to touch her like that? When she was standing there all wrapped up in herself, she heard a small noise. Nothing more than what a small rat could have made, but she knew there were no rats. It was Erik.


	18. The monster

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux is next to Charlotte Brontë the best author who's ever lived.

~Chapter eighteen~

Erik damned himself for making a sound! How could he have been so stupid and careless! She had heard him, he knew it!

A thousand thoughts went through his mind all at once. He knew he shouldn't be watching her, but knowing the mirror was one you could see through from the other side he simply couldn't stay away. He was too curious. He told himself that he would just take a quick look to make sure she got into the bath alright but when he had seen her standing there, in all her glory, undoing her hair and then closing her eyes and starting touching herself he couldn't leave, and instead he had pressed his head closer against the wall, which resulted in a small noise, but he knew she had heard him. She was looking now, straight into the mirror, straight at him. He wanted to leave but he couldn't.

The room was filling up with steam all around her, but she knew what she had heard, and she wasn't afraid, quite the contrary. A small smile played on her lips and she pretended like she hadn't heard him. She closed her eyes again and continued to caress her breasts. She taunted her nipples so they got hard and let out a small sigh from the feeling. Then she took the courage to mumble a whisper to the man she knew was standing outside the bathroom somewhere, watching her.

"Oh, Erik… I wish you were here. I wish this was you…"

Erik couldn't believe what he was hearing but he knew what she had said. She knew he was there! Should he dare to go in? He couldn't stand there being all indecisive. He would have to decide what to do.

Should he dare come in, Christine wondered? Maybe she was being too bold, maybe he hadn't heard her in the first place, or maybe it had been a rat after all? Maybe the rat catcher and the master of the house had missed one small, smart rat somewhere? She gave up a sigh of defeat when all of a sudden she felt Erik's cool hands over her own. He had entered without her knowing it or hearing him at all. He was standing behind her and watching her in the mirror without making a sound. He didn't move, it was as if he was a ghost. His touch was as light as a feather on her hands. No other part of him touched her. She guessed it was his way of showing that she was in control over the situation. One word from her and he would probably leave as quickly as he had arrived. She gave him an encouraging smile in the mirror and started to move her hands around again, with his on top of hers. When she did this she noticed how his yellow eyes became more and more dark and she thought that he wasn't as unaffected by the whole scenario as he pretended to be. Before he knew it she had changed grip so she had her hands on top of his. She wanted to feel his skin against her own. She led his hands down to her belly, and then down even further to her waist, while she was leaning back against him, tilting her head back against his shoulder. Feeling his jacket she decided he had too much clothes on. She turned around and while he was looking at her with a look of shock mixed with awe she pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then she started to unbutton his shirt. When her hands finally got to feel the cool skin of his chest he stiffened and gasped for air. That didn't put her off instead she got fascinated by all the scars he had. Some were old and had faded with time and some were new. She followed them all with her fingertips, and then with her lips, one by one. She could both hear and feel Erik breathe deeply, especially when she reached his stomach and was kissing a big scar he had right next to his bellybutton. When she was done with his scars she stood up and took the rest of his shirt off, and left it on top of his jacket. His eyes followed the shirt down to the floor, but when she started unbuttoning his pants he stopped her hands with a warning look in his eyes and voice.

"Don't do anything you'll regret Christine."

"I won't."

"I don't know… I have never… experienced this before. Not with anyone willing, that is. I don't want to hurt you, you're so young... and I'm not. I don't know if I'll be able to stop once we go past this stage, and I can't guarantee for your safety."

"I know."

He reached for her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Instead of giving him an answer she kissed him. This kiss was possibly even better than the ones they had shared that same morning, and while kissing him she continued to unbutton his pants until they also joined the other clothes on the floor. It was as if a bridge had been crossed because then he grabbed her and pressed her hard against his body. He kissed her neck, her collarbone and she gave a sigh of pleasure when he reached her nipples. She tried to caress his arms and back while he was doing this. She wanted him more than ever and she knew that no matter what now, he wouldn't stop, and she didn't want him to stop. He grabbed her ass and lifted her up and pushed her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him and could feel his erection between them. She kissed his neck as well, and then she found his lips again. This was the point of no return and they both knew it. He wasn't gentle. He forced himself inside her quickly and with a need she had never experienced before. She lost her breath and it hurt a little, but he must have been able to tell that from her facial expression or something because then he slowed down a little and they found a pace together that fit her too. They both climaxed rather quickly. As their breaths found their regular rhythm again she relaxed her legs and he let her down to the floor again.

He pulled out and felt ashamed of what he had done. He knew he couldn't make it undone, but he regretted not being able to take things slower and have more restraints. She must feel used by him. He sure was a monster. This beautiful girl… she deserved better than that.

"Erik, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry Christine. I'm a monster. I will leave you alone now." He turned around and picked up his clothes as if he was going to leave.

"What? No! What are you saying? You're no monster! Stay!" She grabbed his arm to stop him with her one hand and pulled the clothes from him with her other.

"We were just… a bit too excited, that's all. Now come, let's have a bath together. You are in need of one too." She pulled him into the bath and when they both had stepped into it some of the water ran over the edge and out on the floor.

"I hope the water is not too hot for you? Being Swedish I consider hot baths a luxury."

"No, it`s alright."

"Good" she said and smiled. "But you know as well as I do that you will ruin that mask of yours if you get it wet, so I suggest you take it off."

He hesitated for a while and she bet he was considering leaving it on or leaving the bath in order to keep it on until later.

"Go on." She encouraged him. "I promise I won't peek." To show him she meant it she turned around and started washing her hair. After a while she felt his hands helping her to rinse it.

"Thank you." She said and grabbed a cloth and made a sign for him to turn around so she could wash his back with it.

When they both were done they got up and wiped themselves dry with a towel. When that was done she noticed how he took great care of making sure his damaged face was completely dry.

"I get fungal infections easily due to the tight wear of the masks."

"Oh… I didn't think of that. Do they hurt?"

"They sting sometimes, but mostly they itch a lot. But now I'm all done, what about you?" She gave him a nod and carried her clothes to her room to change them for new ones.


	19. Forgiveness

Disclaimer: If you haven't seen the Phantom of the opera movie version with Charles Dance yet, DO IT!

~Chapter nineteen~

The rest of the day they didn't really know what to around each other. Both of them were caught up in their own thoughts. Christine escaped into a book and Erik sat down and wrote some sheet music. They had a light lunch and then Erik disappeared. It didn't bother Christine, right now she didn't mind being alone. She thought back on what she had done and what a great risk she had taken with him. She knew he could probably break her neck like a twig if he wanted to. But he hadn't. He scared her so much at times, and other times he felt closer to her than her own skin in some strange way. And now they had also been intimate. Like a real husband and wife. Does that make their marriage legit now? What did he think of it all? Why did everything feel so different and why was he so distant now?

Erik needed to clear his mind. In order to do so he did his regular rounds around the opera house. It had been several days since he had been up there, mostly because he didn't want to leave Christine's side but now he found it relaxing to see that everything was as usual. Madame Giry with her one tooth left were yelling at Meg to remember to keep her posture straight, the managers were arguing about money matters and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But oh god, Christine had given her all to him! Every single part of herself! Now there was only one thing left he needed her to give him. What he had always wanted from her since the very start. The most impossible part for him to ever want. Her love. So many times he had begged her 'You must love me!' but he knew love could not be forced. Still he felt proud that he had come closer to her than he had ever been before. He couldn't regret it even though he knew she was so young, just a child. She had after all let him, willingly! And now a part of him felt so alive! So why did her love feel further away than ever? He knew he had hurt her, but he hadn't been able to restrain himself. And after it they had hardly spoken to each other. He wanted her forgiveness more than ever. He needed it. Before he knew it he found himself at the Madeleine church, saying a prayer for the first time in ages, begging for forgiveness, not for his prior sins but for hurting the woman he loved more than life itself. Tears fell down his cheeks and he sobbed loudly. The sound from his cry echoed from the walls in the otherwise silent church. If there was a God he knew he wouldn't be forgiven, but asking for forgiveness couldn't hurt now could it? He looked up at the altar.

Seeing the beautiful altar with Saint Mary Magdalene being lifted up to heaven by the angels gave him a bit of hope. But she had never been a killer like him. She had never hurt anyone she loved. She had just been possessed by seven demons that Jesus had driven out, and Jesus had loved her more than the other disciples. Erik knew he had more demons than that. And there were no one to drive them out from him. He was doomed. So what was he doing here? He had no idea, but the sanctuary felt soothing to his heart. He prayed for himself, he prayed for Christine, for the both of them. For her to be able to blind him with grace, springing from her own innocence. For them to somehow be able to get a normal life, filled with music and art and everything that would make them happy. But it felt so out of reach days like these. He could still hear his mother yell at him as a child. How he would never be loved, how she hated him, how she had hoped that he would have died as an infant. Sadness and anger both at once filled his heart and he felt restless.

To have something to do he rose and climbed up to the organ. There he hid some sheets of music behind the pipes, a requiem that he had written. He hoped that one day when the pipes would be cleaned in a few years time, the young man who was now aiming to replace old Théodore Dubois as the organ master, Gabriel Fauré would find them. Erik liked young Gabriel and thought he had potential, but old Théodore wrote some terrible operas! He didn't deserve any help in his career!

Christine waited and waited for Erik. Where had he gone? Should she be worried? What if he had fallen down like he did before once again? Or was this some sort of test? What if she was left all alone, he wasn't usually gone for so long. She at first thought that he might be toying with her emotions, but after she had cried out his name a couple of times with no reply she started to worry even more so. Hadn't he almost always been all around her, or at least close by? To get her mind of things she forced herself to start singing. Songs always took away some gloom. You can't sing and be miserable at the same time, because the singing itself is a sort of ventilation of your feelings. It was like lifting the lid of a boiling pot. If you sang things calmed down a bit. She started off with the arias she knew but when she had run out of those she started singing the female part of some duets.

When Erik returned to the house by the lake he heard Christine in the Louis-Philippe room, singing a song by Camille Saint-Saëns. It was an aria from the opera Samson and Delilah called "My heart opens itself up to your voice". Christine sang:

"My heart opens to your voice, like the flowers open to the kisses of the dawn! But, oh my beloved, to better dry my tears, let your voice speak again! Tell me that you are returning to Delilah forever! Repeat to my tenderness the promises of old times, those promises that I loved! Ah! Respond to my tenderness! Fill me with ecstasy! "

Silently Erik entered the room and spontaneously he stepped into the aria immediately and sang the part of Samson as he was walking up to her:

"Delilah, Delilah, I love you!"

Christine hadn't heard Erik come back but the relief she felt almost overwhelmed her. He was back! She also smiled at the ease with which he found himself in the role of Samson .She turned to him, held out her arms and sang:

"Like one sees the blades of wheat that wave, in the light wind, so trembles my heart. Ready to be consoled, by your voice that is so dear to me! The arrow is less rapid in bringing death, than is your lover to fly into your arms! Ah! Respond to my tenderness! Fill me with ecstasy!"

Erik went into character and stepped into her open arms, he held her close and sang with all his heart:

"Delilah, Delilah, I love you!" As his last note echoed out he quietly added yet another "I love you…"

She looked at him as he was staring into her eyes, and their breaths grew heavy. She was unable to continue on with the second verse. He was so close to her right now. She felt his breath on her skin and he licked his lips. She raised her hands and pulled his head down to her so she could kiss him. It was a spontaneous kiss, it was thought of as a sort of big finale to their song, but it quickly became something more than that. He quickly took off his gloves and threw them away, pulled her skirt up and made her knees weak as he found her most private part and slipped a finger inside. She moaned and felt a want for him, a need for him so strong that it scared her. She gave up a little scream as she fell down onto the floor and pulled him with her on top of her. He kissed her neck and the upper parts of her breasts, since that was all that was revealed to him. Then he disappeared under her skirt and before she knew what he was doing she could feel his tongue actually licking her! No man had ever done that to her before and the feeling of the warm tongue mixed together with his cold finger inside her made her climax. She cried out his name as she did, and pressed his head hard down towards her womb. She had no idea that anything a woman could experience with a man could feel this good! It was completely new to her. She tried to regain her composure but it was hard when her body was almost immediately ready for more.

When Erik felt her cramps release around his finger he pulled it out, kissed the inner part of her thigh and caressed her leg while he stood up. He gently pulled down her skirt again and held out a hand for her to help her get up. He saw a strange look in her eyes when he did so. Was it disappointment? She even looked a bit sad. But he knew she had enjoyed herself. He tried to explain his actions.

"Christine you will get a cold if you're on the floor and I can't get your dress and corset off if you're on the floor."

"Oh." Christine's eyes widened with understanding and she blushed. She had thought he was finished with her, but obviously that wasn't the case. He pulled away the bedspread from the large bed in the room, and then turned to pull her close and started to undo her small dress buttons. Here she could see how skillful he was with his quick hands. He had both the dress and corset and his own clothes off in no time. It was all done so quick that she started getting nervous. What if it was going to hurt again like it did the last time? He must have read her mind because he lifted her up from the floor and gently placed her on the bed and lay down next to her, and for a while he just looked at her. Then he placed a hand on her belly. His touch calmed her a bit.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind being completely naked this time?"

"As you can see my dear, there's not a thread of clothing on my body." He smirked.

"I mean your mask, why don't you remove it?"

"You truly are a work of art Christine. And I love you, but I'm afraid I will hurt you too."

She got a scared expression on her face.

"Why do you say that?"

"No one, not even you want to be with a monster. I keep the mask on for your own good." He grabbed her nipple between his lips and teased her. "If you are ever to love me, I must remain hidden until you forget what I look like underneath this."

"Erik, that's not true!"

"It is. But it might happen in time. You must forget the darker side of me, darling. Now lie back and let's do what married couples do."

And they did, and this time it didn't hurt. Instead Erik wept with gratitude. His tears felt warm on her skin. She held him close and after a while he relaxed and fell asleep in her arms.


	20. Regrets

Disclaimer: I own everything. Society just doesn't know yet that I stole all the characters from Gaston Leroux, who is the greatest writer who's ever lived. If you haven't read the original book: SHAME ON YOU! Buy it NOW!

~Chapter twenty~

Raoul felt devastated. His poor Christine was in the hands of a monster and god only knows what he was doing to her! He had wanted to contact the police but the Persian didn't want them to cause a scene. "Monsieur! Think of your reputation, it would look very bad if got out that the vicomte was telling stories about a man living beneath the opera house who had kidnapped a singer and owned a torture chamber. We need to build up our strength and outsmart him. He is a very clever man but I've known him for a while. I know what he has up his sleeves. We still have to keep his and Christine's secrets, but don't worry vicomte, we will win and you will have your Christine back in your arms. We won't make the same mistake twice." They had gotten firearms and made elaborate plans on how to get down again. The Persian had some maps of the opera and he had marked some places where he said he knew Erik had trapdoors. The trapdoors the Persian knew about were too many for Raoul's taste. He got a foul taste in his mouth too when he thought of what the man, no, the monster, might have done to poor Christine. The Persians servant Darius would help them on their next trip for the monster. He was a dark haired, dark eyed man around the age of thirty with a large moustache. A week later they all felt ready to give their plan a go.

One can get used to anything if one wishes, Erik had said to her once. How had it happened that Christine had gotten so used to Erik's crazy and gentle side that she was now sharing a bed with him? What was she doing! He was a murderer! He had kidnapped her and tortured her beloved Raoul! So why had Raoul been far from her mind yesterday? Erik hadn't forced himself upon her, he hadn't even tricked her or scared her. They had even been in the park and Christine hadn't even thought of crying out for help! She lay now, alone in bed, looking up to the ceiling with thoughts of guilt, same and regrets filling her heart. She felt so ashamed! When she had woken up she had been alone, but next to her there had been a little box. She had been afraid to open it until she saw a note that said it was for her. Inside it was the most stunningly gorgeous diamond and ruby necklace she had ever seen. 'To my dear Christine from your little husband' the note had only said. It made her feel like a prostitute. So this was her pay? Thoughts of Raoul who was probably worried sick about her welfare came over her and she would have cried, but she was afraid Erik might be watching her so she didn't dare to cry, or to throw the jewelry box into the wall, even though she badly wanted to. Instead she hesitantly took the necklace up and placed it around her neck with shaking fingers. She knew Erik would be mad if she didn't wear it, and you must never, ever make Erik mad. She knew she had to get out of there now, and she knew she had to put on quite an acting performance if he was ever going to let her have her chance of freedom again.

Erik saw his little wife put on the necklace with a smug look on his face. It had once been the little Sultana's but he had stolen it from her. It fit a whole lot better around Christine's slim, beautiful neck. His wife, who had cried his name in ecstasy last night, and who smelled so good in the morning. Erik was mindlessly playing around with a deck of cards while he considered giving her a coffin next. Or would she be happy living with him now after all that they had shared? Would she be willing to get a flat with him on Rue de Rivoli? At least now his days of living like a mole were over. He could walk the streets as he liked, and to be quite honest with himself his thoughts of suicide didn't have the same appeal to him as they once used to have. Now he had something, no, _someone _to live for. He closed his eyes and remembered how Christine had wrapped both her arms and legs around him to pull him closer to her while she was all wet, her lips swollen from their kisses and her hair was a mess. He smiled at the memory. Maybe being alive wasn't so bad after all? And the Daroga could be pleased with him knowing he hadn't killed anyone since that last Siren's call at the bottom of the lake.

Christine stepped out of her room and instantly looked for Erik. He might have heard her open her door because he started making sounds in the kitchen.

"Good morning Christine!" Erik smiled at her, in the way he could smile with that new mask on. Christine tried to avoid his look and sat down by the table that was already set for breakfast.

"Good morning Erik."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I wanted to tell you I must be off for a while today my dear. I have some shopping to do."

"Oh, Erik, I will be bored if you let me stay here. May I come with you?"

He seemed to think for a minute but the last couple of days had gone so well that he had no reason to believe that his good fortune shouldn't continue.

"Of course you may, my little wife. We must buy you a new dress! We shall go straight after breakfast." He leaned over and gave her a small kiss on her forehead. Christine smiled the way she thought that a wife was supposed to smile at her husband after hearing about a new dress, and they ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. After breakfast Christine went back to her room for the last time, took one last look around and then solemnly closed the door behind her.


	21. No more

Disclaimer: One reader pointed out that it has been ten years since I started this story and they're right. But since the story has never fully left my mind I intend to finish it now. As some of you might have noticed I've updated it several times the last few days and I intend to finish it. =) This is the last chapter, feel free to review. I own nothing. Enjoy!

~Chapter twentyone~

There were heavy clouds, but no rain outside. The dark weather fitted Christine's sense of mind. She had trouble focusing on where she was going, because she stumbled once and almost fell. Erik then took her hand and made sure she found her found solid ground under her feet again.

"Don't be afraid, I got you Christine. Are you okay?"

Christine looked up at Erik gratefully. He smiled down at her.

"Yes. Thank you."

Erik felt so grateful. Here he was with the love of his life, and the sweet angel was so beautiful. And she was telling the world she was his. She wore both his ring and his necklace. They both fit her perfectly. She made him want to change into a better man. God knew he wasn't an angel or saint, but just a man. But he felt that now he had a chance of real happiness. And here they were, out to get some shopping done. The best thing to be out with her must be knowing that she was going home with him tonight. She made his heart sing.

"So where do you want to go first?"

Christine mentioned a store she knew was close to a route Raoul used when he was in Paris.

"Your wish is my command." They walked towards the store and Erik took her hand. Small drops started to fall but no matter. Nothing could change Erik's good mood.

It started to rain and Christine felt torn in half. Was it the last time Erik took her hand? Was she making a mistake? No! She had to leave. This was her only chance, she loved Raoul. What was she thinking? But she knew Erik's face would haunt her for the rest of her life. The question was: Would it only be in her nightmares? She prayed it would fade away quickly. She had to go on with her life.

"I hope you won't get too wet dear I forgot to bring the umbrella."

"Huh?"

"I said I hope you won't get too wet. I'll start the fire when we get back."

Raoul, the Persian and Darius got seated in Raoul's private carriage armed with two guns each, rope and lanterns. This time Erik wouldn't get away! This time they _would_ save Christine. They headed for the opera.

Christine kept checking all the carriages that went down the street. It was a rather calm day so there weren't that many of them but each time one went around the corner she hope it would be Raoul's. If he didn't come then what? She would have to make a run for it. But where to? She had nowhere to go. Erik could probably persuade people in public that he was her husband and that she had gone mad or something. She started getting anxious. They were outside the store now and she stopped, pretending to do some window shopping when she suddenly recognized the carriage coming up the street this time. It was Raoul's! Now she would have to act quickly. She had to let go of Erik's hand so she turned to him, threw her arms around him and gave him a quick kiss. A last kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but Erik gasped for air out of shock. Here was her chance. She left him there at the sidewalk and ran across the road, waving and screaming for Raoul.

Raoul heard someone call his name in the street. By God wasn't it his Christine! So she wasn't captive? He yelled for the driver to stop the carriage and saw her come running for him. He opened the door and she ran into his arms. Behind her he saw a tall man run after her, screaming her name. He didn't recognize the man, but when he saw the anger, and the fury from the man's eyes when he recognized Raoul's face, he knew it could be no one other than Erik. His yellow eyes burned with hatred when he saw him.

"Raoul take me away from here! We need to go! Hurry!"

It's a good thing tears don't show in the pouring rain. Christine was crying her eyes out when she saw Erik behind her. She saw his rage but also his despair and it broke her heart, but she knew she had to leave him. Raoul jumped into the carriage behind her and yelled a command to his driver and the carriage turned. Christine had barely noticed the Persian and another man being in the carriage already with ropes and lanterns at their sides. She leaned out the carriage window.

The figure of Erik became smaller and smaller on the street behind them. She saw him fall to his knees with his arm stretched out for her, and she heard him screaming her name one last heart wrentching time before Raoul dragged her inside the carriage again.

"We have to leave Paris!" Raoul exclaimed. All Christine could do was nod. She looked down on the golden ring Erik had given her, she gave it a small kiss and took it off.

No more! Erik couldn't stand it anymore. He had no idea how long it had been since the carriage went out of his sight but he was soaking wet in the rain but it didn't bother him. Christine had left him. She had left! Suddenly a horse came close to Erik and he knew he couldn't stay on the road. He tried to get up but every move caused Erik pain, and he had no idea how he made it back to the opera.

Christine. His wife. The soul of his soul, bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. She had left him! She had run straight into the arms of that young boy again when she got the chance. How could he have been such a fool? To think that she would actually love him? He should have kept her tied up. He should have known better than to think that they could have a flat on Rue de Rivoli. What a joke that was! No more! Why did he keep looking for something he couldn't get? He had actually believed he stood a chance. He now felt as shattered as one of his old mirrors. It made no sense, was God mocking him? How was he supposed to live without her? Tears of fire burned behind his eyelids, but he refused to let them fall. Maybe she would change her mind. Yes, she would come back to him. She would! Maybe they could make it alright again, she just needed to return to him. Was she ever his? Oh God, every heartbeat hurt. He would wait for her by the lake. Yes he would wait until she returned. Maybe the Siren would call him on with a song if she didn't. But no, he would wait. Of course she would come, wouldn't she? He was shaking and his heart was aching. But he would wait for her, he would just close his eyes for a while, yes close his eyes so the tears didn't start to fall… She would come… She would…

And that's how his life ended. Waiting for Christine's return by the lake. All alone.

THE END!


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